


the morning after the night before

by medusine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon Era, First Time, Hangover, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 03, Sharing a Bed, Silverflint Summer Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: Silver wakes up hungover and naked in the Captain's bed, and starts discovering unsuspected aspects of Flint's personality.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 14
Kudos: 230





	the morning after the night before

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Silverflint Summer Challenge, and posted... well, a month late. But better late than never! The prompt is this one: "canon era. After a really great haul the Walrus has a rum soaked celebration. The next morning Silver and Flint wake up together in the captain's bed with no clothes."

Silver's head pounded dully – a niggling, uncomfortable feeling that kept pulling him out of his sleep, even as exhaustion tried to draw him back in. Just a few more minutes of oblivion were all he needed. A few more minutes and he'd be all better.

Besides, he was comfortable here. The gentle roll of the waves rocked the hanging cot he was lying in. The mattress beneath him moved too, heaving up and down slowly beneath Silver's head. The movement soothed Silver's headache.

The room was bright, too bright. A sunbeam was trying to pierce through Silver's eyelid, but his body felt too heavy and numb to move. Instead, he screwed his eyes shut and nuzzled into the pillow. A stray hair tickled his nose, and he snorted it away.

That's when the pillow murmured, a low buzz in Silver's ear.

“The fuck,” Silver whispered. His mouth was bone dry.

His forearm was trapped under the pillow he was snuggling into. Or perhaps the mattress. Whatever it was, it was large and warm and heavy. But pillows or mattresses didn't mumble. Silver pulled his arm free and groaned at the unpleasant tingling in his numb hand.

The murmur came again. “You all right?”

If it had been any other voice, Silver would have launched himself off the cot and scrabbled for a weapon. A very distant part of him still wanted to. But it was Flint. Flint was the pillow. Flint was the pillow that he had been nuzzling and squeezing against him.

Oh god.

“Yeah,” Silver answered. Now he was alarmingly aware that the slightly sticky heat against his skin – his chest, his belly, his _thighs_ – was Flint's body. Flint's naked body against his naked body. Silver kept his eyes closed and pressed his forehead into Flint's chest. A few more moments of inappropriate nuzzling weren't going to change anything to this situation, after all.

They were quiet for a while. Flint still breathed slowly and regularly, his stomach swelling like a wave against Silver's. It felt nice. Through his mortification, his confusion at how the hell they'd got into this situation, Silver couldn't help but savour it. He squeezed his numb hand open and closed a few times, then shook it out over the side of the cot, trying to think of what to say next.

“Did we drink that much last night?” Flint asked at last.

“Dunno,” Silver said. He didn't _think_ so. He recalled a cup of rum or two after taking the Spanish ship. They'd been hunting it for days, barely taking the time to eat or sleep. Then there had been the elation after the battle, delight at the sight of the loot: cocoa and tobacco and rum. So much rum. Silver had allowed the crew to open a barrel or two, and then…

“The last thing I remember was being on deck, listening to them sing.” Flint's voice was quiet and controlled. Silver could tell he was also trying to puzzle things out. At least, Silver told himself, he wasn't the only one who'd forgotten how they'd ended up in bed together.

“Do you think we…?” Silver asked, swallowing hard. His cock was half-stiff, pressed against Flint's thigh, and he had no idea if it was more awkward to shift away or just stay there and pretend Flint wouldn't notice.

“We…?”

“You know.” When Flint remained silent, he added: “Seeing as we're naked…”

Flint took a long, somewhat shaky breath. “What if we did?”

It had been brewing for weeks, this thing between them, ever since their victory on Maroon Island. Or ever since they'd been locked in a cage and Flint had let Silver talk him out of sacrificing himself. Or perhaps even earlier. Perhaps it had been brewing ever since Flint had smirked dangerously when Silver had suggested that they might become friends one day. Just the thought of that smirk made Silver stiffen further, goddammit.

“Well, it'd be a shame,” Silver said. In all fairness, he wouldn't be surprised if the only time he'd feel bold enough to finally let Flint close was when he was blind drunk. He racked his brain for anything, even a tiny shred of recollection, an image, a sound. He turned up nothing but the dull pounding of his hangover.

Beneath Silver's head, Flint was stock-still. Tense. Barely breathing.

“I mean,” Silver added quickly. “I'd want to remember something like that.”

“Right.” And all of a sudden, Flint's body slackened beneath Silver's. “Me too.”

What now? It would have been easier if things had become awkward, if Flint had pushed him off, if Silver had actually flung himself off the bed. Instead they'd both more or less confessed to the unspoken attraction between them.

Flint's heart thumped against Silver's head in a strangely pleasant counterpoint to his headache. It lulled Silver back towards the sweet temptation of sleep. If he was asleep, he could still stay here, pressed against Flint's warm body, without having to explain himself. Just a few more minutes…

He wasn't sure whether he'd slept again, but Silver slowly became aware of Flint playing with his curls. He didn't feel it, exactly, but he could hear the soft hiss of fingers running over his hair. Flint's other hand, which Silver hadn't noticed until now, was down beside Silver's hip, cupping it softly. Flint's thumb brushed against his skin ever so lightly.

Half-asleep, half-aware, Silver pressed his lips to Flint's skin, dropping tiny kisses onto his chest. He hadn't expected Flint to notice. But that thumb came up again, its calluses dragging just a little harder over Silver's skin. Silver's cock twitched against Flint's leg. Surely, he could feel that?

In for a penny, in for a pound, Silver kissed Flint's chest again. And again, lower. And again, just above his nipple. Flint squirmed under him and let out a soft sigh. For the first time Silver noticed that, somewhere beneath the sheets, nestled between their bellies, Flint was also getting hard.

Glad they were both on the same page, Silver sucked Flint's nipple into his mouth. Flint gasped, arching up into Silver's face. Heat flooded Silver's body at Flint's reaction. He laved Flint's nipple with his tongue then, teased it with the edge of his teeth, abandoned it after drawing a soft moan from Flint's throat, only to go and torment the other. Strong hands had seized his hips, fingers were tracing the curve of his arse.

Christ, Flint's touch felt better than in Silver's wildest dreams. So did his skin under his lips. Silver kissed his way up Flint's chest, along his throat. There were freckles everywhere and he wanted to taste them all. Wiry stubble scraped Silver's tongue; he didn't care. He licked along Flint's pulse, sucked at his Adam's apple, egged on by the way Flint's hands squeezed his arse tighter, how his hips subtly shifted beneath Silver's.

This felt both surprising and completely natural. As though they'd been suspended on the crest of a wave that was bound to crash – they just hadn't quite known when. Silver shifted against Flint, scrabbling for a purchase to push himself up between Flint's thighs, so that their cocks aligned. Flint moaned and threw his head back, losing himself in his lust.

Silver draped himself over Flint again, reaching up to cup his face between his hands, moving in closer. This, this frightened him much more than teasing Flint's body, more than the feeling of their cocks squeezed together between their bellies. That part was only pleasure, only animal. This, though…

Flint was staring at him wide-eyed, lips falling open, wonder etched in every line on his face. Silver couldn't remember how to breathe.

Suspended on the crest of a wave.

Then Flint's hands slid all the way up Silver's back. Silver whined, in fear, in pleasure, he wasn't sure. But he bowed his head, met Flint's lips as he surged up towards him. It was awkward, mouths mashing together, teeth clacking, noses bumping. Flint's fingers snaked into Silver's curls, tilted his head just so, and the next kiss was deep and hungry, bruised lips sucking and capturing and devouring.

A hot shudder spread all the way down Silver's spine when Flint's tongue teased his. As they kissed over and over, Silver couldn't help but think of what that clever mouth would feel like against his cock. His cock, which was now twitching and leaking onto Flint's belly. Christ he'd never wanted to come so badly, and he'd also never wanted to savour a moment more than this one.

He got lost in Flint's kisses, the teasing and withdrawing of tongues, lewder and lewder as their bodies pressed closer together. Silver heard himself moan softly, all the while swallowing down the barely audible sounds Flint was making. Close, he thought, breaking off from Flint's lips for a second to catch his breath.

Flint tilted his head back with a groan, his body rippling and shuddering under Silver's. Silver couldn't resist shifting aside just a little, lightening the pressure on their cocks. He pulled the sheet aside, revealing their bodies to the morning light.

Silver had imagined Flint's cock many a time, and many a time he'd imagined it as furious as the Captain himself – a battering ram, a spear, a sword. He'd had little reason to see Flint in any other light, after all. But with Flint spread out beneath him now, eyelids fluttering with repressed need as Silver reverentially ran his fingertips along his shaft, Silver realised how stupid that had been. Flint's cock was pink and delicate, a silky object made for pleasure, not war. Silver marvelled at the thought as he teased Flint's cock between his thumb and forefinger.

Those thoughts quickly vanished in a haze of lust when Flint uttered a moan. He'd already been stiff, but Silver felt Flint grow as he slowly worked the foreskin over his cockhead and back again. A blush was blossoming up Flint's chest and across his face, a deep pink that Silver couldn't help but admire. Still stroking Flint languidly, he bent to kiss the dip at the bottom of Flint's throat.

“Christ,” Flint growled. Then he reached under the mattress, fumbling for something. Silver watched, his tongue sliding in long stretches along Flint's chest while his fingers still teased his cock. But when he saw the little bottle Flint had in hand, Silver drew back, unsure of what it suggested.

Before Silver had time to worry about what Flint intended to do with it, Flint nudged him aside and drizzled the oil down the cleft of his own thighs, just beneath his balls. _Oh_. Silver bit his lip, mesmerised by the slick liquid disappearing between Flint's legs.

“Yeah?” Flint grunted, by way of an explanation. He pressed his lips to Silver's again, cupping his cheek, rubbing his thumb over his neck. Silver's eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the softness of that touch. He tried to answer Flint, but his agreement sounded like a muffled whine.

And then Flint engulfed him. His mouth first, devouring Silver's again. Silver got lost in its heat, letting Flint drag him on top of him. Strong arms wrapped around Silver's waist, holding him fast. Strange that he felt safe in Flint's arms, considering what he'd done, what he was capable of. But right now, nothing felt safer than being with Flint, than belonging to him entirely.

  
Silver had to bite back a loud moan when Flint's hand wrapped around his cock, slicking it with oil. Then under Flint's guiding fingers, Silver slipped into the hot space between Flint's thighs. He'd dreamt of those thighs, thick and strong, but usually he'd dreamt of kneeling between them, stroking them while he pleasured Flint with his mouth. If only he'd guessed how good they'd feel, squeezed tight around him.

“Fuck,” Silver breathed, his hips rocking back and forth of their own volition, every movement sending pulses through his cock. Flint let out a sound of pleasure when the head of Silver's cock bumped into his taint. Silver desperately wanted to hear that sound again, so he braced his foot on the cot's wooden frame for leverage and gave a somewhat lopsided thrust into the heat between Flint's legs.

Flint's hands came to Silver's rescue, gripping his hips to adjust the angle, helping them into a quicker rhythm. At first his lips dragged along Silver's throat, sloppy and frantic, until Silver's thrusts against that tender spot had him throwing his head back on the pillow, gasping for breath. Silver could hardly bear it, fucking into Flint like this, seeing his face beneath him, all dark eyes and reddened lips.

He wanted to draw this out but he was too close already. Flint's moans, his cock rubbing against Silver's belly, his hot hands on Silver's skin – it was all too much. Pleasure ripped through Silver, a lightning bolt up his spine. He barely managed to muffle a cry as he spilled himself into the heat between Flint's legs.

“Christ,” Flint breathed against his ear. “That was fucking beautiful.” Flint stroked Silver's hips gently as he rode out his climax, lips pressing against Silver's ear. Gentle. That wasn't a word Silver would have expected to use to describe Flint.

It was nearly too much, to think of Flint in these terms. Unfamiliar territory. So Silver rolled aside, shifting his good leg into a more comfortable position, and palmed Flint's cock. This, he knew how to do.

“Are you gonna come for me now, Captain?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around Flint's shaft and flicking his wrist.

Flint flushed a deeper red and moaned, thighs parting slightly as he bucked up into Silver's touch. Silver watched Flint's legs in fascination for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of invitation. He tentatively slid his free hand along the inside of one thigh, finding it sticky with his own seed.

“Yes,” Flint said, barely a murmur.

Silver delicately cupped Flint's balls as he started to work his cock a little faster, feeling them tense and draw up under his touch. Then, emboldened by Flint's stuttering breath, he pressed two fingers into Flint's taint. Flint gasped, bucking up into his fist, pressing himself into Silver's touch. Silver moved with him in a trance, mesmerised by the sight of this terrible, fearsome, impossible man coming undone in his hands.

Flint came with a half-choked moan, his cock painting glistening stripes up his belly. He was even more beautiful in this moment than Silver could have imagined, as though he was finally sated after days, months, perhaps years of deprivation. Silver bent over to kiss along his sweat-slick throat, squeezing Flint's cock through the last of his orgasm, until he was left quivering and gasping for breath.

“Well, that answers my question,” Silver murmured into Flint's ear.

“What question?” rasped Flint.

“We definitely didn't do this last night.”

Flint chuckled, his throat vibrating against Silver's lips. His fingers threaded into Silver's hair, stroked his scalp. “Yeah. We'd have remembered.”

They rested against each other, Silver pressing his head into the crook of Flint's shoulder. He was comfortable. How unexpected was that? Captain Flint, terror of the seas, was comfortable and tender and blushed when he was about to come.

Silver snoozed, his headache nothing more than a distant pulse in his temples. Flint's heart thumped beside his ear, and the ship rocked them gently. Silver found himself wishing that the world would stop, here and now, so that this moment would go on forever.

At some point, Flint slid out of bed. Silver grumbled and whined and buried his face in the pillow – the actual pillow, this time. He heard Flint pour water, and supposed that he was cleaning up. Silver drifted off again, until the sound of Flint approaching made him crack an eye open.

“I found our clothes,” he said. “And this.” He held up a scrap of paper, a stony expression on his face.

The paper was written in some pirate's messy hand. It read: “You fell asleep on deck so we carried you here & made you comfortable. Please don't hold it against us.”

A vague memory floated back into Silver's mind – the crew singing, and Flint close to him, so close that their legs touched. Then the sound of Flint snoring softly, the warmth of his shoulder when Silver let his head rest against it. No wonder the men had decided to turn themselves into matchmakers after finding them snoozing together.

“Comfortable,” Silver repeated, a grin spreading on his face. “Interesting way of saying 'we stripped you naked and put you in bed together', I suppose.”

Flint's dark expression dissolved and he gave an amused snort. “One day,” Flint said, reaching to play with one of Silver's curls. “I'm going to kill those fuckers.”

“You'll do no such thing,” Silver told him, gazing up into Flint's face. There was no threat there. Only fondness. “As their Quartermaster, I forbid it.”

“In that case,” Flint murmured, stroking his thumb over Silver's cheek. “I suppose you'll have to keep me in check.”

Silver felt a grin spread across his face. “I think I can manage that.”

And now, after months of struggling and a single drunken night, he actually believed that he could.


End file.
